


With Great Power

by Inthemorninglight



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Gen, Inhuman Politics, Jemma getting to explain her viewpoint for once, Post S3 Finale, Skimmons BROTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthemorninglight/pseuds/Inthemorninglight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Daisy finally hash out some differences and restore a friendship that's been wearing thin ever since Puerto Rico. </p><p>Or</p><p>A well-buried part of Jemma's past comes to the surface, and she finally gets both to explain herself and apologize for things said in difficult circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Great Power

**Author's Note:**

> Because Jemma's approach to Inhumans never really gets explained adequately or resolved and she deserves better than that. 
> 
> There is brief discussion of gun violence and the politics surrounding that, just FYI. It sort of jumps out at you. I morbidly head cannon that Jemma had a brother (twin brother, sometimes) who died when they were children, so this touches on how that might play into her characterization.

Jemma’s making tea. Of course she is. She’s always in the kitchen when Daisy wants to eat, and it’s probably not a coincidence. Just like Fitz suddenly needing her expertise on a dozen computer science projects and Mack perpetually needing a videogame partner are not coincidences. At least they’re not banging down her bunk door, but it’s really only a matter of time.

She seriously considers waiting until she hears Simmons go to bed to find something to eat, but she’s already skipped a meal to avoid her, and she just doesn’t feel like being the one walking on egg shells. She’s too tired for that.

Jemma’s face lights up the moment she sees her, but she manages to temper it into a more appropriate expression.

“Can I interest you in a cup?” she asks, reaching for another tea cup as Daisy pulls open the fridge.

“That’s okay, thanks,” Daisy mumbles, grabbing the first package of lunch meat she can find and snagging the bread from the counter.

“Are you sure? We’ve got those chocolate biscuits you really like,” Jemma adds hopefully.

Daisy holds up the mayonnaise and mustard. “Not really in a tea sort of mood.”

“Right.” Clutching her own cup between her palms, Jemma leans against the counter.

Daisy assembles her sandwich as fast as possible, but as she’s about to leave, Jemma’s fingers close gently around her wrist.

“Erm, you know you can talk to me, right? If you want to. About Lincoln.”

Daisy shouldn’t say it. She knows she should just leave it be. But every time Jemma has consoled her or cast a sympathetic look in her direction something’s squirmed under her skin, and this is the final straw.

“Actually I’d rather not talk about Lincoln to someone who designed a vaccine to _unmake_ him,” she says and shakes off Jemma’s hand.

Jemma’s eyes pop open in surprise and hurt, and Daisy’s not proud of it, but that does lesson at least one of the raging tsunamis of anger inside her a little.

“It wouldn’t have affected Lincoln,” Jemma says after her, physically unable to stop herself from correcting a scientific fact. “It was for people who haven’t transformed yet. It can’t take away anyone’s powers.”

Daisy knows this but it’s the principal of the concept. If Dr. Jemma Simmons had it her way, Lincoln would never have had powers in the first place, and she cannot talk about him to someone who disapproves of such a fundamental part of who he was.

“That’s not the point,” she snaps at Jemma. “You put him on a register. You made a vaccine for _what we are_. You don’t get to act like you two were friends.”

“He helped me make it!” Jemma bursts out, setting her teacup down on the counter behind her and taking an indignant step toward Daisy. “He _agreed_ that it was a good idea!”

“He’s inhuman, he’s allowed to! _Was_ allowed to,” Daisy corrects herself, throat burning with the word. She redirects that panicked chest-is-caving-in feeling into her anger. “ _You’ve_ been nothing but suspicious and afraid of us since Puerto Rico, so you don’t get to talk about what’s ‘best’ for us. And you don’t get to pretend you two were friends.”

“We were friends,” Jemma murmurs, eyes falling to the floor. “And _we’re_ friends, you and I,” she adds, looking back up at Daisy. Then a little more uncertainly, “Aren’t we?”

It hurts more than Daisy thought it would. Because Fitz and Simmons had been her first and best real non-cyber friends. Because Jemma had been the first girl she’d gotten drunk with and confided things in and felt, maybe, could be like the sister she’d always wanted.

But that had been childish idealization.

“I think it’s best if we aren’t friends,” she says and she can practically see the wound these words inflict. “I respect you, Jemma, and everything you do for SHIELD, but I don’t think I can be friends with someone who thinks the world would be better off if I didn’t exist.”

“Daisy!” Jemma calls after her as she turns again to leave. “That’s not – I don’t – Our neighbor shot my brother!”

This awful and unexpected information draws Daisy up short, brings her half-around. Jemma has tears sparkling on her cheeks. She hastens to explain.

“My dad traveled a lot for work, so we spent a bit of time in the states when I was young. We were living in upstate New York in this suburban neighborhood, and one of our neighbors was ex-military and he had PTSD and he’d been arrested twice before for violent assault and he shouldn’t have had a gun, but he did.”

She took a great breath.

“It was getting dark. My brother and his friends were playing cops and robbers with cap guns, and he saw them and thought they were real and – and my little brother –”

A half-swallowed sob cuts her off. Daisy stands immobile in the middle of the kitchen, watching Jemma pulling herself back together. The story makes her feel sick and sorry and a little shocked that she’d never even known Jemma had _had_ a brother. But she is furious that Jemma’s chosen this moment to bring it up, using it to derail their fight.

“What does that –?”

“I’m sorry,” Jemma says quickly, brushing roughly at her tears. “I didn’t mean to just throw that at you. What I mean is that – you’re amazing, Daisy. But not because of your powers. You’re incredibly compassionate and because of that you use your powers to save lives. You don’t deserve suspicion or fear or anything like that, and neither did Lincoln. Neither do so many inhumans.

“But not everyone is like you. There are plenty of responsible people who own guns, who are trained to use them, who may even save lives with them. But my neighbor wasn’t one of them. That kind of power in his hands was dangerous, and my brother died because responsible people didn’t want to be treated with suspicion.

“I know words like ‘index’ and ‘vaccine’ have awful connotations. I know they make you feel like we – I – think there’s something wrong with you or we don’t accept the way that you’re different. We’ve been terrible with the language on that front and I’m very sorry. I’m – I’m not really good at things like that. I’m a scientist and I like to be precise with my verbiage and I don’t hear how it sounds to other people. So, I’m sorry that we’ve spoken about inhumans the way we have.

“But this isn’t like other kinds of human differences. Powers like yours and Lincoln’s and any other inhuman’s have the potential to be dangerous. They might not be inherently dangerous, but they can be as lethal as any gun in the wrong hands. And – Daisy, that kind of power… it can go to people’s heads. Not always. It didn’t with you or Lincoln or Elena or Joey, but you must see how easily it _could_. It happens with prison guards all the time. They have more power than the people around them, and it’s an incredibly _human_ thing to be tempted to abuse it.

“We need to know who has powers. We need to assess their mental stability and ability to use such powers responsibly, just as with any kind of potentially dangerous force. Weapons, automobiles, whatever it may be. Jiaying controlled who was allowed to go through the mist, did she not? She had very good reasons for doing so. Not everyone can handle this kind of power.”

“ _I_ know that, but that doesn’t give _you_ the right to pick and choose!” Daisy interrupts, a much needed vent for her stored-up anger.

Jemma looked suitably chagrined. “You’re right. Which is why Coulson put you in charge of the Secret Warriors, and why I was working with Lincoln on the vaccine.”

“The world is bigoted, Jemma,” Daisy says heatedly. “They’re afraid of us. The Watchdogs, the ATCU, all this crap is a giant witch hunt. If we’re indexed, even if it doesn’t fall into some murderous mob’s hands, the first person they’ll accuse of any crime will be the closest Inhuman.”

Jemma nods her understanding. “I agree. I know. But that means we need to put all our efforts toward a fair judicial system within SHIELD. We need to work _together_ to protect humans and inhumans alike. We need to make sure the system is as unprejudiced as possible and that Inhumans have a strong voice. If the system is flawed, you fix it. You don’t just pitch it out the window and invite in chaos.”

Daisy holds up her hands and closes her eyes, trying to process Jemma’s words objectively. This conversation had been a long time in coming and typical to both of them has struck at the worst possible moment. She has too many other things that she is just barely keeping a grip on right now, and she wants to clutch the hurt and anger she’s been grappling with ever since Jemma first condemned everything alien while Daisy was still in quarantine after Puerto Rico.

But she knows this is an illogical reason to dismiss an argument.

“If you vaccinate everyone against terrigenesis, you’re eradicating the Inhuman race,” Daisy says at last, as calmly as she can. This is the thing that disturbs her most. “It’s one step down from genocide.”

“It was never my intention to vaccinate everyone,” Jemma explains, a plea in her eyes for Daisy to understand. “Something that could prevent terrigenesis would have to be extremely well-controlled. But terrigenesis is lethal to all non-inhumans. A proper vaccine could prevent countless deaths from accidental exposure. I – and I can’t speak for him, of course, but I believe Lincoln, too – imagined genetic testing to determine if someone was inhuman or not and offering them a choice, perhaps evaluating them through a similar process to what was used in Afterlife. There is certainly dangerous potential to immunization, but so many lives are being lost without it.”

Daisy thinks of Trip and Andrew and knows Jemma is thinking the same. She shakes her head. This is an angle to consider, but it doesn’t change the way Jemma acted after Daisy’s transformation.

“You called it a plague,” she reminds her quietly. “You said Inhuman DNA is an abomination, and you wanted to wipe it out.”

Regret and aguish cloud Jemma’s face. She looks down, then back up, meeting Daisy’s eyes firmly. “I’ll never be able to apologize enough for the things I said back then. They were awful, and I am so, _so_ sorry. I – I’m not trying to shirk responsibility for my behavior, but I was in shock, I think. Trip and – if you’d seen the inside of my head back then…. I wasn’t thinking straight at all, and I didn’t mean it. I was – spiraling, and usually Fitz is there to level me out, but obviously there was a bit of a breakdown in that system at the time. But I’m still so sorry I ever thought like that, let alone said such awful things to you.”

Daisy swallows and nods. She knew Jemma hadn’t truly meant it at the time, that she was just as grief-stricken and distraught as the rest of them. Perhaps even more so, with Trip being almost her only friend at the time. But the apology is good to hear regardless.

“I –” Jemma examines her own fingers. “I have a bit of a problem, you see. I’ve been working on it, and I hope I’m getting better. I’m a doctor and a scientist, and when someone is hurting, my first instinct is to try to fix them. But – you didn’t need to be fixed. I know that now. I’ve known it for a long time. I love every part of you, Daisy, and I would defend you’re freedom to my last breath.”

Another nod. It’s all Daisy can manage. Here, _here_ is the girl she met on the BUS.

“There are a lot of people who would agree with indexing and immunization for horribly bigoted reasons,” Jemma goes on. “But I hope you can believe me when I say I am _not_ coming from a place of blind mistrust of superhuman abilities. The bottom line is that we’re talking about lethal force, and I know first-hand what unregulated lethal force can result in.”

A third nod. It is a perspective Daisy will have to examine more closely, but she at least now understands what’s going on inside Jemma’s head. She does believe her.

“I’m so sorry about your brother,” she says, reaching out to squeeze Jemma’s arm. “I didn’t know anything about that.”

“I know,” Jemma says with a watery smile. “How could you have? I never talk about it. I’ve only brought it up with Fitz once.”

“Well, if you ever _do_ feel like talking about it, you can tell me anything,” Daisy assures her. “But… I might need some time to deal with my own shit first.”

Jemma’s hand finds Daisy’s, still resting on her upper arm. “I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

In answer, Daisy steps forward and wraps her in a tight hug. “Me too.”


End file.
